Building of the Façade
by DreamingIce
Summary: Intertrilogy. Wes Janson and family. Growing up in an unstable home and environment, Wes learns to hide his true feelings behind pranks and humour, just like his elder brother. Warning for domestic violence and character death.
1. Attacks

**Title:** Building of the Façade

**Era:** Intertrilogy (8 BBY)

**Characters:** Wes Janson; Falren Janson (OC brother); Dalrina Janson (OC mother); Kargir Janson (OC father); Deirean (OC friend)

**Ships:** None

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Summary:** Growing up in an unstable home and environment, Wes learns to hide his true feelings behind pranks and humour from his elder brother.

**Disclaimer:** Playing in George's sand box. And besides, if I really owned Star Wars, there would have been more written on pilots, and NJO wouldn't have destroyed so many characters. Oh, and DN would have been burned waaaay before it was ever published. is feeling cynical

**Notes:** 'cause I'm feeling sadistic and evil. WARNING: Alcohol abuse and domestic violence within. Oh, and Wes is meant to be about 9 here, his brother is 15

**Part One: Attacks**

_Crash._

The sound of the plates smashing in the kitchen and the raised voices that followed woke the nine-year-old from his restless slumber with a jolt.. Across the room from him, his older brother poked his head out from his blankets.

"What do have here? A sudden meteor shower? A wild animal attack?" he joked despite his sleepiness. "Oh, just an argument." Falren rubbed his eyes and rolled out of his bed, heading for his little brother's bed. Said brother was crawled into a ball with his quilt covering his head in a vain attempt to block out the noise, and to hide his fear. The fifteen-year-old sent a silent curse to his father. This was _his_ fault. _He_ was the one who had turned this into something like a family ritual, but not the type that would ever be mentioned, mind you.

It was always the same. Once the argument had started, no one in the house would sleep. The noise alone enough to keep the two boys awake, but the worst was when, after taking out his frustrations on his wife, Kargir Janson would then try the same on his sons.

Oh, he didn't hit them where a bruise would be seen, he just hit where the blow would hurt even more, or bruise less, and where people wouldn't see.

Hearing the sobs of his mother, and the initial argument winding down, Falren lay down on his brother's bed, hugging Wes as he did so. "Just keep pretending to be asleep, Wes, don't get up okay," he whispered. The mound of blankets that was his little brother nodded then went still.

A minute or so later, the bedroom door was slammed open. Kargir Janson lumbered in, bringing the stench of strong spirits with him.

"Wha' cha doin' over there, ya stinking kid?" he growled drunkenly at his eldest son.

Getting up off the bed, Falren tried to wrestle his face into a calm mask. "Wes had a nightmare earlier, so I soothed him." _Actually he's having a nightmare right now: you. Pity we can't wake up and you'd disappear._

The older man advanced towards the bed, "kriffin' wimp, both of ya," he snarled. When Falren didn't move out of the way, he raised his hand. "get outta my way, boy, that kid needs ta learn."

The teenager didn't budge. "No."

Lashing out, Kargir punched him in the stomach and tried to go around him. But the fact that Falren had twisted out of range meant that Kargir was propelled forward when he was trying to go to the side. His drunken state didn't allow his brain to process this properly, or at the right speed, and as a result he fell over. Unfortunately, this only served to make him angrier than ever.

With a snarl Kargir leapt for Falren. This time, Falren didn't twist away; he met his father face on. The first blow from Kargir punched all the air from his lungs, then the pummelling of his lower back, chest, and backside started. Falren yelped in pain, knowing that the more pain he showed, the quicker he'd finish, and if he was satisfied, or drunk enough that he'd collapse, he'd leave Wes alone. Instead Falren tried to take it for him.

But Falren never submitted fully, he always made sure that he at least got some punches of his own in. And in recent times, Kargir had emerged looking worse and worse. This time, Falren saw an opportunity to end this night's fight and took it eagerly. As he smashed the heel of his palm into the older man's forehead, he saw Wes poking his head out of his blankets.

Kargir dropped like a stone, completely out of it. Wes scrambled out of bed and ran to rummage through his secret compartment underneath the bed. A few seconds later, Wes emerged with some bacta paste and a couple of bacta patches. Smiling painfully, Falren hobbled over to the bed and let Wes carefully apply the paste to some of the more tender spots.

"Thanks, little bro," Falren winced, as Wes found a slight cut on his back.

Wes flashed a smile that mimicked his brother's. "Well, if I can't help you initially, at least I can help afterwards." The words were almost casual humour, but the look on Wes' face belied that evaluation.

Falren's mouth twitched at that. Hiding behind humorous words, something he'd been doing for so long that it was second nature now. And now Wes was picking it up too. Mentally, Falren shrugged, if it kept both of them going, it couldn't hurt. "But both of us felt like this," he gestured at himself. "Who would be doing your job?" Wes shot him a grateful look.

Once Wes had finished doing what he could, they both crawled back into their own beds; not sparing a second thought to their father sprawled on the floor.

* * *

Well?

Review!


	2. Discovery

**Part Two: Discovery **

It was an unspoken rule of the Janson household that they didn't talk about Kargir's drinking or his violent outbursts, which were becoming more frequent. If they had close neighbours, they would know something was up from the noise, but the nearest neighbours were about a standard Imperial click away. To the Pendeth community, the Janson family was happy, after all, why would two boys who acted like Falren and Wes did, be unhappy?

The simple answer to that was that they used their personalities as shield, mainly from their father, but the few times that they had come under fire at school had also proved their shields' abilities.  
In fact, outside of the family, only two people knew about what really happened, why there were days where neither Wes or Falren looked like they'd had any sleep, or why they sometimes seemed to be limping. That would be Falren's best friend, Deirean, and his mother, Imiary.

Time spent at Deirean's was seen as respite by both of the Janson boys, as Falren usually bought Wes with him, unwilling to leave him at home. Not that Deirean's mother ever minded.

They had found out by accident about six months ago, when Falren had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty beating, he had welts all the way up his back. Wes hadn't escaped that one either and could barely walk due to the bruising on his upper thighs and backside. To boot, the tube of bacta paste that the pair saved to buy every now and then ran dry after Falren had rubbed a couple of dollops on Wes' bruises. Kargir had still been in a fowl mood in the morning, and their mother had fled the house to the markets. Neither of the boys had wanted to stay home, so they somehow managed to go over to Deirean's place.

It was a hot day, Deirean suggested they go and muck around in the small pool that he and his mother had on their land. Warily, Falren accepted the spare clothes that Deirean said he and Wes could use to go swimming. Falren was sure not to present his back to Dierean while changing his top, but his friend still caught a glimpse of one of the welts that had started to come around to his front.

"Fal, what did you do to yourself there?" he asked worriedly as his friend hurriedly pulled the top down.

"Nothing, just grazed myself," Falren responded vaguely as he bit back a wince from his bruises. Deirean raised an eyebrow at him, worry creasing his forehead.

"Oh, what on?" he asked.

Falren was struggling to come up with an answer when he was saved, in a way, by Wes. The younger boy, also trying to hide his injuries, had taken the opportunity to change his shorts when Deirean started quizzing Falren, only for Wes to knock the worst of the bruises on his legs. The yelp Wes let out as fire burned through the bruise made Deirean turn around. A look of shock fell across his face when he saw the bruises on Wes' legs.

"What the in all nine Corellian hells happened to you two?" he whispered shakily. The brothers' only answer was a tense silence.

"Please tell me," Deirean pleaded.

Falren had backed up to the wall of the room, and in doing so accidentally bumping the welts spanning his back. Seeing the wince, Deirean's frown intensified.

"Fal?" he asked almost warily, "What's wrong with your back, what _happened _to you two?"

Falren sighed resignedly and gingerly pulled up the back of the top and turned around. He was rewarded by gasp of shock and disbelief from his friend. He didn't need to see him to know that those two expressions were warring on his face.

"Sithspawn," Deirean whispered. "Wait a minute, I'll get my mum to find some stuff for the two of you," he said as he headed out the room. Falren's eyes widened at this.

"But 'Irea-" he started to protest, but he was already gone. Falren looked at Wes who had since finished getting changed and was sitting miserably on the bed. They just looked at each other, at a loss for anything to say.

It was Wes who broke the silence. "Fal, what are we going to say?" he asked quietly. 

Falren didn't answer straight away. Eventually, he let out a sigh. "I guess we'll tell the truth, Wes, as long as father doesn't know we've said anything, we'll be okay." He wasn't sure who he was reassuring more, his little brother, or himself.

While waiting for Deirean to return with his mother, Falren hadn't pulled his top back down entirely, and while talking to Wes had turned his back to the doorway. He realised his mistake when he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him and twisted around to see Imiary's face pale with a mixture of shock, disgust, and pity. Deirean was standing next to her.

"Falren," she asked shakily, "who did this to you? 'Irea told me that you mentioned that it was accident, but I know the difference between accidental and inflicted injuries," she told him.

Neither boy wanted to be the first to speak up.

Looking between the two downcast faces, one on the bed and one in the middle of the room, Imiary took a guess, "Was it your father?" Falren bit his lip and nodded.

"What!" A look of horror crossed Deirean's face. "Your _father _did that to you?"

"He doesn't act nice at home like he does in town," Wes piped up.

"But…" Deirean still couldn't get his head around it.

The skin around Imiary's mouth tightened with the admission. "I'm going to give that man a piece of my mind…" she muttered.

"NO!" Falren and Wes cried out. Imiary raised an eyebrow. "He'll twist it his way," Falren explained. "He'll make look like were lying, say we're pulling a prank on him, like some of the pranks that we've done in school, and after everyone's gone, then we'll really be in for it, especially after he hits the drink."

Imiary's look softened. "Falren, it's not right, you know that. Those marks on your back are proof," she sighed. "Besides, I'll back you up," she reassured him.

Falren sent her a wry smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mrs. Lomblyn, but that wouldn't work. When he's not stinking drunk, he's very cunning. He'll say Wes and I were fighting, or were chasing Roba when we shouldn't have been, and were trying to shirk our responsibilities.

"Also, he'd discount your words, cause, well, he knows that you don't like the Empire much…" he trailed off, embarrassed by his father's views. Thankfully, Imiary saved him from finishing.

"And because I'm a widow who's running a grain farm on her own?" she asked. Blushing, Falren nodded. She sighed heavily. "Okay. I don't like it, but I do see your point." She reluctantly admitted. "But you need to talk, get it out of your system. So, feel free to talk to me, but now let's see to these wounds."

Imiary moved towards Falren, but he moved away. "Look at Wes first," he told her.

Wes had, for the most part, watched everything silently, but now sent a small smile to Imiary. "Nah, I got the last of the bacta paste last night, Fal needs it more than I do."

"But yours makes it harder for you to walk, Wes," Falren pointed out. Wes shrugged.

"Yours still looks worse."

Imiary interrupted. "I've got plenty of bacta paste here, so there's enough to go round, and yours does look terrible, Falren, so you're first," she gestured to the bed, "lie on your stomach."

As Imiary gently rubbed the paste over the wounds, Falren explained the situation a bit more. "So he beats both of you after he'd been drinking?" she asked, disgust tainting her voice. Then Wes piped up.

"Mum too, but Falren gets it the worst. He tries to stop him. Father doesn't hit me as much 'cause Falren gets in the way."

Falren grinned weakly, "If I didn't, I wouldn't have a little medic to patch me up afterwards, would I?"

Imiary sighed. "What are we going to do with you two?"

"The only thing you can, keep quiet. One of these days, he'll drink himself into his grave." Falren said seriously.

Deirean spoke up again, "If you want I could teach you some fighting tricks to help you when your father lays into you. Just some of the stuff that dad taught me before he died".

Falren smiled. "I'd like that, and I could also use it in the pranks too…"

Deirean shot his friend a calculating look. "This is why you and Wes always act so… humorous."

Falren's eyes closed again. "Our sense of humour is a shield he can't break unless we let him break it," he explained tiredly.

Imiary had finished with the paste on his back, but he stayed there and eventually drifted off to sleep...

* * *

Please Review! (Big Kudos to my one and only reveiwer for the first chapter :hugs:)

Misha


	3. Changes

**Part Three: Changes **

It took another year for Kargir Janson to 'drink himself to his grave' as Falren had put it. In those 12 months Falren and Wes had learnt some basic self-defence from Deirean, and some weapons practice as well, as both Deirean and Falren wanted to join the Rebellion. As such, they had been left rather put out when Wes blitzed the two of them in marksmanship.

Also through the defence lessons, the two brothers found that they could begin to grow into the sort of confidence that they pretended to have in front of everyone else. Less bruises on them, and more on their father, also made a big difference. Kargir's failing reaction times made it that much easier for Falren, and Wes on occasions, to knock him out before he did much damage.

Their mother, who had endured years of abuse at the hands of her husband quickly found out what her two sons had been up to. When she found that they had told someone about Kargir's behaviour, she had been torn between joy and dismay. Joy that someone knew of the real Kargir, and dismay, because if he knew that someone else knew, all three of them would suffer.

But gradually, Kargir became sicker, and sicker. His liver stopped one night while he was sleeping. He never woke up. Had he gone to a medic, they could have treated the liver, or replaced it with a cybernetic one. But as he refused to admit he had an alcohol problem, he also refused to think that the alcohol was slowly killing him.

After his death, people began to notice changes within the family. The two boys, while not stopping their pranks completely, certainly scaled them back, like they weren't a necessary distraction anymore. Dalrina Janson became less withdrawn, and more like the vibrant woman she had been before she married. The community began to wonder what had been going on while Kargir had been alive, but were in part, to afraid to ask.

* * *

After struggling with cancer for six months, Dalrina Janson passed on three years after her husband. In the absence of both parents, the twenty-year-old Falren had sold the small farm the family had owned and he and Wes accepted Imiary's offer to move in with Deirean and herself in exchange for working on their property instead. 

Another year past, and Taanab came more under the Empire's thumb. Now recruiting had started in Pendeth, and many other districts across the planet. Many of the young men of the farming community were eager to join, to experience life beyond the limits of Taanab.

Deirean and Falren, without Wes for the time being, hid in an old hiding place of theirs that overlooked the flock of volunteers.

"Fools," Falren muttered with an equal measure of pity and scorn directed at the young men, mostly in their mid to late teens or early twenties. "They really think that if they join the Imp forces, they'll be 'helping people'," he laced a large amount of sarcasm into the last two words.

Deirean motioned for him to lower his voice. "Careful, Fal, we don't want anyone to hear that," he warned. "This is bad. They say that they want 'volunteers', but if they don't get the numbers they want, it'll be conscription," he frowned at the scene in front of him.

"Then we'll really be in for it, won't we 'Irea,"

Deirean nodded glumly.

The two friends sat in silence for quite some time before Wes joined them.

"What were you doing that's put such a smirk on your face this time?" Falren asked the dark-haired fifteen-year-old.

Wes' smirk widened. "You don't want to know."

"Who's going to be chasing you and yelling at you, then?" Deirean queried.

"Salphorin," he relented. "But he deserved it, he was pushing the younger kids around again," Wes added.

"If he wasn't such a Imp lover, I'd almost feel sorry for him," Deirean muttered.

Wes looked affronted. "Hey, I give you two, and other friends the nice lot," he informed them. "The ones I do on people I don't like are much nastier," he gave a predatory grin.

The two twenty-one-year-olds looked at each other. "We are definitely _not_ getting in his bad books," Deirean said emphatically.

"Agreed, what he does now is bad enough," Falren confirmed.

"What, you mean neither of you like the little stuffed nerfs on your hats last time?" Wes asked innocently. The only response he got was two glares sent in his direction.

The crowd was starting to thin out in front of them, and the officers weren't looking too happy about it either. Soon it was only the Imperial officers left.

"I would have thought that all the boys here would have wanted to get off this backward rock," the sharp voice of one of the officers floated to the three boy's hiding place.

"Whatever, we still need more numbers here. We have to start i_visiting_/i people," the icy calm voice of the officer who was obviously in charge sent chills through the three eavesdroppers.

"They're gonna force people into the Academy," Deirean whispered despairingly, stating the obvious.

"We going to start with the eldest boys again, sir?" the junior officer asked with the air of a person going through a regular drill.

"Yes. The ones in their twenties, then we'll move down," the commanding officer confirmed.

Deirean and Falren looked at each other. "We are so dead," Falren croaked. Deirean nodded numbly.

Fear flitted across Wes' face. "But you could hide couldn't you? Between the three of us, we know the best hidey-holes in the district."

Deirean shook his head. "They'll have the local records on hand. If we get visited, we're in trouble," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

"'Irea's right, Wes," Falren told him quietly. "If we hide, resist, whatever, we'll not only be sentencing ourselves to whatever the Empire does to us, but all our friends and family too."

Silence reigned after Falren voiced those frighteningly true facts in the hidden glade.

Eager to break the tense silence, Wes chipped in, "Maybe we better head home."

Two brunette heads eagerly nodded in response as the three of them started to thread their way through the green and brown maze.

* * *

Imiary looked over the three young men as they wandered in with varying stated of apprehension on their faces. "Do I want to know what you've all been up too?" she asked. 

"Well, you don't want know what Wes got up to at least," Deirean told her. Wes affected an innocent expression as if to say, _'Who, me?'_

"For that matter, 'Irea, we don't even know what he did, and we probably don't want to either," Falren pointed out.

"Awww... No one wants to hear about my pranks no more... it's just so devastating..." Wes pretended to be heartbroken.

Imiary just raised an eyebrow, long used to the trio's antics. "What about you elder two, hmm? What got you looking so worried?" she queried. For sometime, silence was her only answer.

Finally, Deirean quietly replied, "The Imps didn't get the numbers they wanted from the volunteers. They're going to be conscripting, mother."

The ball of bread dough that Imiary had been kneading dropped back into its bowl with a thud. By the looks on their faces, she hadn't expected it to be good, but she had expected that. "Are you sure?" she demanded. "How can you be sure about that?" She desperately clung to straws, trying to convince herself that Deirean and Falren wouldn't be forced into the military. Maybe they'd even take Wes, even though he was barely fifteen. Surely even the Imps thought that was too young to be in the military.

"Because we overheard them talking about it," Wes said bitterly, a completely serious expression covering his usually cheery face.

"Oh,' said Imiary faintly as she sat down.

Deirean, Falren and Wes quickly prepped dinner and no one said anything more on the subject of the Imperials while the four of them ate.

Unfortunately, the vague hope that the topic could be kept from conversation all night was thrown out the window when a knock echoed through the quiet house.

The kind of knock none of them wanted to hear.

* * *

**Bah, bah, bah... What do you think it is:p Review!**

**Esteban T. Rodriguez: **Thanks! I figured thatthere'd be something in Janson's past that he's "running" from. After all, most of the other SW characters have angsty pasts... And on the lack of pilot focus, ever read the X-Wing series? They're great!

**Misha**


	4. Forced

**Part Four: Forced**

The four of them froze where they were. A second more insistent knock brought Imiary to her feet. The third rap had just started as she opened the door.

It was then that her worst nightmares solidified into the form of the Imperial officer standing in front of Imiary now.

"Ms. Lomblyn?" asked the senior officer in his cool, clipped voice.

"Yes," Imiary answered, fighting to keep her tone and expression neutral.

"Are," icy blue chips embedded in his face darted towards the datasheet he was holding in his hand before continuing to speak, "Deirean Lomblyn and Falren Janson here at present?"

Despite her efforts to hide her emotions, her face drained of colour slightly. Nodding, she reluctantly opened the door further. "We just finished dinner," she said quietly as the officer followed her inside.

None of the boys had moved from the table and when the officer marched in after Imiary, the level of tension in the room increased tenfold.

"Wes, go to bed," Imiary said quietly into the silent room. Wordlessly, the teenager left the room, but stayed within earshot of the kitchen.

The Imperial officer studied Deirean and Falren intently. "You two are both twenty-one standard years old, correct?" he asked in his cold, precise voice.

"Yes, sir," they both answered.

"Yet neither of you applied to join the Imperial Academy," he paced towards until he was standing directly of Falren and Deirean. "Why?" the wording make it sound like a request, but the tone turned it to a demand.

"Because we'd rather stay here and work on the farms," Deirean said, hiding his crossed fingers out of the Imperial's line of sight.

"And I have to look after my brother as well," Falren added. The officer eyed them both for a few moments.

"I am here to inform you that you have both been drafted into the Imperial Naval Academy on Carida," he said eventually, his face empty of emotion. "Your transport leaves tomorrow at 1700 hours."

Imiary's face went a pasty-looking white and Deirean and Falren's eyes widened. _Tomorrow? Not even twenty-four hours._

"But," Falren stammered, getting desperate. "My brother-"

"Will be taken care of, I'm sure," the Imp finished smoothly, shooting a calculating look in Imiary's direction. "I expect to see you tomorrow," he said, a veiled threat audible in his voice. "There will be... consequences, if you do not comply." With that, he turned sharply and left the three of them standing in a somber silence.

As soon as he heard the front door snap shut a minute later, Wes re-emerged from his hiding place. "You're not going to go, are you?" he asked desperately, glancing wildly from Falren, to Deirean and to Imiary.

He was met with silence from all three.

"You can't!" he exclaimed. "You can't!"

"It seems that the choice has been taken away from us this time, Wes," Deirean croaked out.

"But-"

"No, Wes," Falren's voice cracked a little. "Didn't you hear him? We'll be in all sorts of trouble if we don't. And when an Imp says trouble, you know it won't be pretty"

"Wes," Deirean captured the teenager's attention. "Think of it this way, if we train, we can defect to the Rebellion with some proper skills."

Wes just looked at him bleakly, all his vestiges of merriness striped from his face. "But they'll kill you," he whispered.

Falren got up and embraced his brother tightly. "Wes," he said quietly as he released him. "Look at me." Wes slowly complied, raising his eyes from his feet until they met with Falren's hazel-green eyes. "They'd have to catch us first," he reminded Wes gently. "And what's one thing we've gotten really, really good at?" he asked his brother, a ghost of a smile on his face.

Wes mirrored his expression. "Hiding," he answered in a near whisper.

Falren managed to muster up a grin, albeit a weak one. "Exactly. Now, we'd better hit the sack."

Wes nodded, yawning slightly as he headed towards the room that he and Falren still shared.

Imiary moved away from her spot next to Deirean and placed a gentle hand on Falren's shoulder. "I'll look after him, Falren, I promise you that."

Falren's eyes darted towards Imiary. "I know you will," he said softly. "Thank you."

Silence then dominated the room. None of the remaining occupants really knew what to say to each other, all locked into their own tangled thoughts. Eventually though, they all drifted towards their rooms.

As he walked into the room, Falren was relieved to hear gentle snores coming from the other side of the room. He didn't think he could take the questioning Wes would surely be giving him, if he were awake.

He fell onto his bed with a sigh. It had finally happened. Both Deirean and he had guessed sometime ago that it would come down to this, and they though they had been ready for something like this to happen. They'd been so wrong.

Why was it that whenever you thought you were expecting the worst to happen, life always managed to turn around and deliver it in a way that stung just as bad, if not worse?

Tossing restlessly, Falren drifted into an uneasy slumber, his dreams full of imposing figures, dark shadows and infinite uncertainties.

* * *

**Not one review from the last chapter... something, anything, please?**

**Misha**


	5. Goodbyes

**A/N: Replies at bottom of Chapter, Enjoy!**

**Part Five: Goodbyes **

Wes opened his bleary eyes the next morning and looked towards his brother's bed; all he found was an empty bed that had already been made back up. That in itself was unusual for two reasons: Falren had never been a morning person, and because neither of the Janson brothers were exactly tidy. Hence the tidy bed being abnormal. Wandering into the kitchen, he found Imiary staring out the window aimlessly while nursing a strong cup of caf in her hands.

"Morning, Wes," she said quietly with looking around.

"Mornin'," he mumbled. "Where-"

"Irea and Falren went out early," Imiary informed him, still not turning around from the window. "They said they'd be back by lunch time."

Wes sighed before muttering a response and helping himself to breakfast. Sneaking another glance at Imiary, who hadn't moved beyond raising her arm to drink her caf, Wes went to slip a couple of slices of candied muja fruit into his cereal.

"And you keep away from those candied fruits, Wes Janson!" she exclaimed without having to turn around.

Wes scowled at her back. "How do you always manage to do that?" he asked, a bit perturbed at being caught out.

"Intuition, I guess," Imiary finally tore her gaze from the window and smiled at him. "And besides, I know you've been eyeing those ever since I bought them," she added with a small sparkle in her eyes.

"Ah," Wes remarked. "So it's more a case of you know all of us too well, eh?"

The glimmer in Imiary's eyes dulled as a faraway look crossed her face again. Wes mentally kicked himself for saying something like that.

"Sorry, Imiary," he mumbled before darting out of the kitchen and house.

* * *

Wes spent the rest of the morning trying to find where it was Falren and Deirean had gone, and after giving up on that, sat and brooded over the latest turn of events in his life. As promised, Deirean and Falren got back in time for lunch, but even that was a somber affair. After lunch, the two older boys resigned themselves to packing their belongings. 

Falren was contemplating how he was going to fit his gear into his bag when Wes ventured into their room. Wes spent a few minutes silently surveying the room before speaking.

"It'll be weird having this place all to myself," he said finally in a subdued voice. Falren turned to face Wes.

"And I'll think it strange to wake up without some inane prank of yours falling on me, tripping me, or Force-knows what else," he retorted with a grin on his face, determined to keep the conversation from turning dark and gloomy.

"Oh..." Wes said with a smirk. "So you _will_ miss my handiwork, won't you?" He passed for a minute a thoughtful expression on his face. "Maybe you'll be... _lucky_ enough to get a room mate who likes pranks too."

"Force help me," Falren murmured. He thought of the strict discipline that was no doubt in place at the Academy, he shook his head at his brother. "Somehow I don't think that's going to be at all likely though, Wes."

Wes pulled a face. "Everyone behaving all the time... how boring," he said with a shudder.

The lull in the conversation soon turned in to an awkward silence as both of the brothers tried to think of something to say to the other. Finally, Wes rushed over and hugged Falren.

"Make sure you come back, Fal," he whispered. "Promise me."

Falren swallowed hard. It wasn't a promise he could be sure he'd be able to keep... "I will, Wes. Promise," he forced out, mentally wincing at the lie. "But you have to promise me something too, Wes."

Wes pulled away and looked at him. "What?"

A little half-smile crept across his lips. "Don't change. What ever happens, don't change. Keep pranking people, whatever, just don't let your sense of humour disappear," he told the teenager. _'Cause you're probably going to need it a fair bit over the next few years to keep you going... _

The fifteen-year-old's dark eyes sparkled with glee. "You wait 'til you're _leaving_ to tell me this?" he mock pouted.

All he got in the way of a reply was a pillow lazily thrown at him. Dodging the pillow, Wes grabbed it out of the air, and after snatching up a pillow from his own bed, flung them back towards Falren. Ducking as the two pillows thudded into the wall beside him, Falren snatched all the pillows from his bed and proceeded to pelt them at Wes.

"Hey!" Wes complained as he scuttled behind his bed for cover. "What are you chucking them at me for? You started it!" He grinned. "Although, I thank you all the same for your precious gift of ammunition." With that, he scooped up the pillows Falren had thrown at him and the impromptu pillow fight continued.

Deirean peeked his head in soon after and quickly became embroiled in the fight as well. Another half-hour later, all three of them collapsed in laughter on he rooms two beds. For the older two, it would quite easily be the last such laugh for a long time.

* * *

No one could believe how fast 1700 came around. But then again, time has that habit of doing exactly the opposite of what you want it to do. In this case, wishing it would slow down only seemed to make the chrono tick faster. 

There were so many young men there, with facial expressions ranging from giddy excitement to obvious terror, as well as everything in between. The throng of family members surrounding the young men, boys really, fussed over them with combinations of pride, worry, and on some, thinly veiled disgust at the Imperials.

The Lomblyn's and the Janson brothers joined the mass of people reluctantly, knowing that doing so was the end of a calm period of time. Then came the hardest part: the goodbyes.

Deirean and Imiary drifted off slightly to say their own goodbye, leaving the two brothers staring awkwardly at one another.

Falren was the first one to move, grabbing Wes in a bear hug. "Don't forget your promise," he whispered in the ear of his little brother. "And be good for Imiary."

Wes pulled away, his eyes suspiciously damp. "And you can't forget yours either," he said solemnly.

"I won't," he said, ruffling Wes' hair.

At that moment, Imiary and Deirean came back, Imiary embracing Falren in a crushing hug. "Take care of your self, Fal," she said forlornly. "And stick with 'Irea as much as you can, for both of your sakes." She paused for quite some time before adding quietly, "I've loved having you in my house, thank you."

Falren swallowed hard, taking in Imiary's words while watching Deirean and Wes say goodbye. "No, Imiary, I should be thanking _you_, you've looked out for Wes and I for so long. There's no way we can repay you."

She pulled Falren back out to arms length, looking him in the eye. "Yes you can," she said seriously. "Keep yourself as safe as you can."

The four of them came back together for one last hug before the group of recruitment officers began herding the young men aboard the shuttle like a herd of nerfs.

Falren and Deirean somehow managed to stay together within the seething mass. Nabbing two seats next to each other, the two quickly stuffed their gear under the seat. While doing so, something small and soft fell out of an unfastened side pocket in Falren's bag. Frowning, he reached down to grab it, and then gasped.

It was Captain Jarren, the stuffed shaakdog that Wes owned, the signature symbol for his pranks.

A scrap of flimsy was wedged in between its paws. Quickly unravelling it, Falren read the note just as the shuttle began take off.

_Fal,  
__I know what you said about the Academy was probably true, so I'm not going to ask you to use Jarren in the same way I have in the past. But, well, basically... I'm giving you Jarren because he'll remind you of all the fun we've had over the years. Please don't forget those good times, Fal. (That goes for 'Irea too) And you never know, maybe Jarren will bring you some luck too!  
__I'll miss you, big brother. Don't forget to come back.  
__Wes_

Falren just buried his face in his hands as the shuttle smoothly made its transition into hyperspace.

* * *

**Review? -sniffles- Just the Epilogue left... must finish before exams...**

**Replies:  
**Esteban T. Rodriguez: Thats fine, and thankyou! My lips are sealed as to what happens, you'll just have to wait. And I hear you on the fanfiction vs. published stuff... some of the newer SW books should be burnt. (Eh, I'm being cynical, but the angst-ness is just becoming... unbareable) Um, never mind my babblings, thanks for reviewing.

PrincessZeldaSkywalker: Thankyou! I love messing around with the less known characters, and Wes' past is open for speculation. But after all, everyone else in SW seems to have angst in their past, so why not Wes too? -scolds self for being cruel to one of her fave characters-

**-Misha**


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

If there was one job that Pirros hated, it was this. Being the bearer of bad news was never fun and always emotionally draining. After all, procedures required any such officer to keep an emotionless mask on, but that was more than a little hard when you had to tell a mother, a wife, a sibling, a child, that a loved one was never coming home.

It was even worse in cases like this, two lives lost, from what seemed to be two separate families, but functioned as one. But it was actually made slightly easier this time by the two who had died, or at least the circumstances surrounding their death. Resigning himself to his fate, Pirros let his face settle into a cool mask of indifference before knocking on the door that evening.

Moments before, there had been lively chattering coming from within the house. Chattering that ceased abruptly at the sound from the front door.

Slowly, the door opened to reveal a middle aged brunette woman, and lurking behind her, a dark-haired teenager who couldn't have been anymore that sixteen.

"Mrs. Lomblyn?" Pirros asked, slightly hesitant.

At Pirros' inquiry, Imiary paled significantly, signalling him to come in. After retreating to the dining area, Imiary spun around. "Deirean and Falren, what's happened to them?" she managed to croak out, Wes supporting her as he led her over to a chair.

Pirros shifted uncomfortably under the pair's scrutiny. _Get a grip of yourself! You're an Imperial officer; you cower to no one. Especially the family members of two rebel sympathisers._

Clearing his throat loudly, he spoke in a cool voice that the Academy had drilled into him. "I regret to inform you that both Deirean Lomblyn and Falren Janson were killed in battle a week ago."

Wes only barely managed to grab the edge of the table beside him in time as his legs gave way. Imiary was frozen into a picture of shock.

Sinking to the floor before his arms gave way too, Wes asked the first question, his eyes flinty as they sized up the officer. "What happened?"

"There was a skirmish with a group of Rebels known to be called the Tierfon Yellow Aces squadron, they were caught in the crossfire," Pirros said smoothly, carefully omitting the fact that they had turned traitor and had shot down TIE pilots harrying the Y-Wings, so were in turn shot by their commander. _Let them blame those Rebels_/i Pirros thought coldly. i_It will let them see them for the terrorists they are._

Wes had not missed the brief flash of contempt that had appeared in Pirros' eyes. "Okay, you can go now," he said coldly.

Nodding, Pirros turned sharply and left.

The front door had barely snapped shut when Wes threw his empty plate at it with all his strength. He watched it shatter into millions of destructive shards with some satisfaction. Then he sank down next to Imiary.

"He said he'd come back. He promised," he sobbed in to her shoulder.

* * *

It was well over an hour before their sobs subsided.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Wes said quietly, "That wasn't the whole truth. He was holding something back. Something important."

Imiary looked at him wearily. "Why do you say that?"

Wes made a shrugging motion with his shoulders. "Just..." he trailed off trying figure out how to phrase his thoughts. "The contempt in his eyes when he said how-" he broke off sharply, unable to finish the sentence.

Silence reigned for another couple of minutes.

"I'm going to join the Rebellion," Wes whispered into the stillness.

"But Wes-" Imiary started desperately.

Wes brushed her off. "No, I'm going to you know how Fal and 'Irea wanted to join, but instead the Empire killed them!" he exclaimed. "They killed them, I'm sure of it!"

Imiary didn't respond immediately, and when she did, tears had returned to her eyes. "I don't want to lose you as well, Wes," she answered quietly.

He looked into Imiary's dark eyes. "But I want to do what's _right_; stopping the Empire. It's what I've wanted to do for ages, just like Fal and 'Irea always wanted to." Wes swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to erupt once more.

"'Irea and Fal died protecting what they believed in. I just know they did. The Imps lied to us to get us to shut up, to keep us quiet. But I don't want to be kept quiet!" Wes finished.

Imiary closed her eyes in resignation. She just hoped that she wouldn't lose Wes as well.

* * *

Two weeks later, the contacts Wes had made in Taanab's Rebel cell told him that they could get him off-planet to the main forces in a day's time. From there, he'd receive his basic training before joining a squadron.

When the time came to leave the following day, Wes and Imiary embraced for what they both knew could be the last time.

Smoothing Wes' unruly hair a bit, Imiary bit her lip in anxiety.

"Take care of yourself, Wes," she told him, eyes watering. "And try not to annoy too many people with your pranks."

Wes grinned, albeit weakly, at that. Wes had only pulled minimal pranks in the time that Deirean and Falren had been gone and none since the news of their deaths had reached them.

"Same to you, Imiary," Wes said hugging her again. "Thank you for everything, I owe so much to you."

Then, without giving time for Imiary to reply, he slipped out of her grasp, heading for the ship. He didn't want to say goodbye. If he said that, he'd as good as said he wouldn't be seeing her again.

But he would. He'd come back, he'd have to make sure of it.

**AN: That it, everyone! In reply to one of the reviews saying that Wes didn't sound like a nine year old, well, this fic spans over 7 years, and if that reader has another look at the chapter they questioned, they will see that I described Wes as being fifteen in that chapter.**

**Reviews would also be nice.**


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